United States or Nepal ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Palmer and Drake. 11th July 1870. The Burtons spent their summer in a diminutive Christian village called B'ludan, on the Anti-Lebanon, at the head of the Vale of Zebedani, Burton having chosen it as his sanitarium. A beautiful stream with waterfalls bubbled through their gardens, which commanded magnificent views of the Lebanon country. As at Santos, Mrs.
Richard and I made our plans and arrangements in ten minutes, and then saddled the horses and cleaned the weapons. Richard would not take me to Damascus, however, because, as he said, he intended to protect Damascus, and he wanted me to protect Bludan and Zebedani. The feeling that I had something to do took away all that remained of my fever. In the night I accompanied Richard down the mountain.
Burton "bade adieu to the Anti-Lebanon with a heavy heart, and for the last time, choking with emotion, rode down the mountain and through the Plain of Zebedani, with a very large train of followers." "I had a sorrowful ride," says she, "into Damascus. Just outside the city gates I met the Wali, driving in state, with all his suite. He looked radiant, and saluted me with much empressement.
I then rode down the hill to the American Mission and begged them to come up and take shelter with me, and then into the village of Bludan to tell the Christians to come up to me on the slightest sign of danger. I gave the same message to the handful of Christians at Zebedani. I rode on to the Shaykhs, and asked them how it would be if the news proved true.
I used to ride down to Zebedani, the next village to Bludan, to hear Mass, attended by only one servant, a boy of twenty. The people loved me, and my chief difficulty was to pass through the crowd that came to kiss my hand or my habit, so I might really have gone alone.
One day I was riding alone through the village of Zebedani; as usual every one rose up and saluted me, and I was joined by several native Christians. Suddenly Hasan, a youth of about twenty-two, thrust himself before my horse; the natives dropped on their knee, praying me not to be angry, and kissed my hands, which meant, "For Allah's sake bear it patiently!
I could not wait longer, as night was coming on; so I rode back, for I could do no good. I felt sure he would not see the sun rise. When all my sad preparations were finished at Bludan, I bade adieu to the Anti-Lebanon with a heavy heart, and for the last time, choking with emotion, I rode down the mountain and through the Plain of Zebedani, with a very large train of followers.
"Like it!" she exclaimed, quivering with emotion, "My eyes fill, and my heart throbs even at the thought of it." Indeed, they always looked back with wistful, melancholy regret upon the two intercalary years of happiness by the crystalline Chrysorrhoa, and Mrs. Burton could never forget that last sad ride through the beloved Plain of Zebedani.
Word Of The Day